Just Call Me Concussion Boy
I went on my date Saturday, concussion and all. Which, in case you missed it; I ate shit on the way into my apartment in a fit of drunken discord and bestowed a slight concussion upon myself. My shoulder is killing me, the left side of my face is a bit scraped up and the golf ball size lump is till crowning my head; the headaches have been present since Friday night.
Yet despite this discomfort and the retardedness behind the entire event, I supertroopered it out and had a really good time. Not a fantastic time, not a bad time, not a stellar night or a disastrous one either. Just a good time; period. I�m not going to over analyze the night (or at least tell myself I won�t) as I�m already concerned the kiss at the end was a little too much. It wasn�t like I draped myself on her, just a quick little smooch and a tiny tease of tongue when I dropped her off. My sensual (call it perverse if you like) personality and desires to press flesh (closing in on a month since I�ve done so) drove me to end the awkward exchanges of goodbyes in this manner. Appropriately enough, the only part of the evening that was slightly awkward was the end because we both had to stop talking and go our separate ways.
Now before I cover minute details and nuances, it may bear repeating my current social situation. My �booty call girls� have all been cut off, officially effective the first time I hung out with the editor (the dating interest). In reality I hadn�t had conjugal visits from any of them for a couple of weeks prior to my outing due to circumstance, conflicting schedules and good ole mother nature. The �X� and I had a nasty little falling out, which has sense been resolved and we are back to where friends are supposed to be after a brief non-speaking hiatus. The stripper simply stops by to get me stoned every so often and my evil angel doesn�t really care all that much, though I�m rather certain I should at least mention it to her in a communiqu� that is verbal in origin.
The only other minor annoyance in my closing social circle is the fact that I�m in love with my newest female super best friend and not the �you�re such a great person� type of love, but the �I want to be the guy you come home too and stick my tongue between your legs� type of love. This in and of itself is not a big deal, I�ve had similar one sided feelings before that can easily be repressed or redirected to avoid destroying the friendship. In this case, it is common knowledge that the person in question is the Model and that she is currently miserable with her boyfriend. To a lesser extent, is the knowledge that any number of her homeboys would be a much, much better fit for her happiness than any man she could possibly find and pick on her own accord.
The puzzle begins; I have a very odd woman on my plate. Interacting with her is similar to fighting an unconventional war by conventional means. She is very plain Jane, non-descript in her attire and grooming habits; preferring non-color adornments, super-cuts over hair salons and very little along the lines of accessories and plumage. While our date out of the evening was fun, she disclosed that she normally prefers happy hours to nights out and while she didn�t exactly bristle when I refused to let her pay for anything, she did state reciprocation on our next night out would be in order. I�m afraid I surprised her and possibly not in a good way with my end of the night kiss. The game of Jenga that I thought was thoroughly and easily won is now poised to topple, because I am unaware of which piece to pull out next. Not a bad thing by any means, as something too easy wouldn�t be any fun for me and I surely am in need of something to challenge my social agenda, but�
Yes, dear reader, �but� is surely the key� If if's and buts were candy and nuts, it would be Christmas every day. And if you know anything about me, you must know by now how much I hate Christmas. Wait, where was I going with this�?
Oh right!
I�ve got good pot and was stoned all weekend.
Which compliments my concussion quite well in contributing to the fact that�
I�m thinking entirely too much about things that have no pertinent bearing on anything that is going on right now and I just need to let it ride, baby, let�it�ride�Or at the barest of minimums quit relating life to quotes involving asses and testicles around the holiday time.
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